Robert Coleman Trussell: Music

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Sweet Little .22
Music & lyrics by Robert Coleman Trussell
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I smoke this cigarette
Smoke it just for me
I write your name on paper
It's a thing like to see
I've got a dollar, mama
Like to gamble it into two
If I win the big one, mama
I'll give it all to you
All to you

My daddy didn't teach me, mama
Had to learn things on my own
The world inside my head
Is the place I call my home
Grandpa liked his whiskey, mama
Guess the whiskey made him go
He dried up and blew away
And he won't be back no more
Back no more

When I was a little boy
I flew my paper kite
I let it ride into the sun
Till I lost it in the light
I saw the crop dusters paintin'
Pictures on the sky
Ask any question
I will tell the same sweet lie

Daddy had a rifle, mama
A sweet little .22
One time he killed a rabbit
And we cooked it in stew
I was too young to remember
But I think they told me true
If I had that rifle, mama
I'd get a rabbit just for you
Just for you